


In the heat of the night

by Samara Lilly (Amber_Rose)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Aztec Empire, Historical, M/M, Rimming, Soldier Aziraphale (Good Omens), high priest crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27653620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber_Rose/pseuds/Samara%20Lilly
Summary: Aziraphale is on a mission and has to pose as a soldier in Cortez' army. He shouldn't be surprised to meet someone he knows in the jungle of what will become Mexico some day...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 39





	In the heat of the night

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a zine, but didn't make it into it, so I can share it with you.

Aziraphale is sweating and silently cursing this assignment while he tries to bring his horse to follow his fellow soldiers through this godforsaken jungle in what would later become Mexico. Parts of his armor haven been chafing his skin for hours now, and the sweat doesn’t make things any better. And riding has never been Aziraphale’s favorite pastime. In front of the army Aziraphale can spot Hernán Cortés - oh, how he loathes this man! A young priest with a very promising prospect is with the army, and Aziraphale is here to try to protect him and just hopes he will be able to in this godforsaken jungle. This assignment is really taking its toll on him. The journey here has been awful enough. Ships have never been his favorite, but he may be biased by his time on the Ark which hadn’t been a very pleasant experience except… Oh well, better not think about it since he has no clue when he will see him again.

When they arrive at Tenochtitlan they are greeted in front of the gates of the city by guards and warriors - and Montezuma himself. Aziraphale keeps a safe distance and just watches how Montezuma welcomes Cortés with gifts and jewelry. Aziraphale feels uneasy. He has heard about the treasures of the new world - and how much Cortés desires them. 

The whole army is escorted into the city and given the best quarters. Montezuma invites them for a feast late in the evening. It’s already dark, when Aziraphale leaves his quarters and wanders through the city. Tenochtitlan is a wonder to him. It’s a busy city, and curious glances follow him where ever he goes. Like always he is curious and treats everybody friendly. Until two pairs of hands grab him. Aziraphale tries to fight the two men who seem to be some kind of guards, until he realizes he is not threatened. One of the guards holds up an amulet with the picture of their god Quetzalcoatl - the winged serpent. Aziraphale stares at the amulet, then at the man pulling him further. He has the nagging feeling he should just follow the men - and is sure they won’t do him any harm. 

Minutes later Aziraphale is escorted into the high priest’s house and huffs in indignation, wiping sweat from his brow, before he is pulled further and finds himself in front of the high priest, sprawled in a chair carved from a block of wood. He is clad in some kind of black skirt and sandals. His bare upper body is decorated with more gold Aziraphale has ever seen before on a human (or human shaped) being. A necklace with an enormous pendant hangs from his neck. His arms are decorated with heavy bracelets and rings. Even his ears are pierced, and big earrings hang from his earlobes. His flaming red hair is flowing in shining waves over his shoulders. The feather headdress he is wearing is made out of blue and green feathers so dark they are almost black, but shimmer in the light of many oil lamps, and golden eyes with slitted pupils watch Aziraphale in amusement.

“As soon as I heard there was a chubby soldier with curls like golden moonlight among Cortés conquistadors I had the feeling I would recognize this solder from another world…”  
“You! I should have known when the soldiers told the stories about a winged serpent-god. What are you doing here?”  
“Hello, Aziraphale!” Crowley smiles one his best smiles, his teeth shining white, his canines slightly longer than usual, and his eyes are fully golden.  
“How could I resist when this assignment came? This is one of the very few opportunities where my looks are beneficial. Do you want something to drink? I’m afraid the Aztecs don’t have decent wine, but I can offer you this. It’s made from pineapple, so it’s drinkable.”  
“No, thank you,” Aziraphale scoffs and watches, how Crowley gives the two men who brought him here, a sign to leave. Then he slithers from his chair and goes over to a table, laden with food. 

Aziraphale is in fact hungry, but determined to resist the temptation. This time. Crowley takes off his feather headdress and gently puts it down on a little free space on the table, then prepares a plate with fruit, roasted turkey and potatoes before he saunters over to Aziraphale.  
“It will take a few years, but I think these potato thingies will be a great success once they reach the old world. Sure you don’t want to try something?”  
Crowley stands directly in front of Aziraphale and pops a piece of pineapple into his mouth. He closes his eyes, while he chews, then swallows and smiles.  
“You know, I rather like it here. The jungle is just amazing. All these beautiful plants. I admit, the nights are not very quiet. Sometimes you can hear the roar of a jaguar in the distance. I’ve already seen some. Magnificent beasts. There are rumors about a creature with a single horn in their forehead which also roams the forest. But I think it’s a myth. Shame…” he sighs, lifting an eyebrow and offering the plate to Aziraphale.  
“Oh you wily old serpent!” Aziraphale’s stomach is growling, and he reaches for a piece of roast turkey. It’s spicy and tastes wonderful, and soon Aziraphale is tucking in with gusto. Crowley lets him and just watches him eat. It’s a familiar sight. They have shared so many meals during their time on earth… 

In the end Aziraphale even accepts a cup of the slightly alcoholic beverage Crowley offers him. The taste of pineapple explodes rich on his tongue. Crowley lets him empty the cup. Aziraphale may feel a little uneasy under his unblinking gaze, but tries not to let it show. When he hands Crowley the cup back, the demon takes it and just throws it into a corner. Aziraphale swallows, when Crowley takes a step closer and invades his personal space. And all of a sudden Aziraphale finds himself being pushed and manhandled towards Crowley’s pompous chair. Thank someone a cozy pillow and a nice soft blanket are draped over it (had they been there before? Aziraphale asks himself, but can’t remember - and it doesn’t really matter, anyway) when his bottom lands on the chair. Crowley is looming over him - a tall, slim figure, clad in his black skirt, bare chested, decorated with so much gold Cortés eyes would pop out of their sockets, red hair shining like copper, his white fangs glistening, golden eyes looking at him like he is prey. But Aziraphale doesn’t feel intimidated in the least. No. He feels himself getting even hotter. And not from the heat of the night.

“Aziraphale - leet me help you with your breastplate. You must be so uncomfortable…” Crowley purrs. He reaches out his hand, touches the clasps and straps. His agile, clever fingers unbuckle the straps first on one side, then the other. With a metallic clatter both parts of the chest armor fall. Crowley takes both, and they join the cup in a corner of the room. He leans forward and puts both hands onto the arm rests of his chair, caging Aziraphale in between his strong forearms.  
“Well, angel, now that you have restored your energy, let’s see what we can do with it.”  
“W-what do you mean, Crowley?” With no chance to back away, Aziraphale stares up wide eyed. Crowley pushes a strand of his long hair behind his ear.  
“Oh, you know fully well, what I mean…” Crowley’s hand stays in the air, and he snaps his fingers. Aziraphale yelps when the rest of his clothes and armour vanish and leave him completely naked.  
“You know, the Aztecs do sacrifice humans to appease their gods. I wouldn’t go that far. I would be content with just ravishing this nice, plump, pale body of yours…” 

“I am not plump!” Aziraphale exclaims, but before he can say anything more, the demon’s lips are on his: warm, persistent, demanding and yet soft and gentle. Aziraphale lifts his hands. He puts them on the demon’s shoulders, but instead of pushing him away, his blunt nails dig into the soft skin. A shiver runs down Crowley’s spine. One of his knees comes up and finds it’s place between Aziraphale’s strong thighs. His tongue is now plundering Aziraphale’s mouth. He can still taste the sweet drink on Aziraphale’s lips, and it’s intoxicating. He moans into the heated kiss an feels Aziraphale shift on the seat. 

With a low growl he reaches for the fastenings of his skirt and lets the fabric fall to the floor, never breaking the kiss. Next his hands land on Aziraphale’s knees and glide up over his thighs. Applying gentle pressure, he pushes Aziraphale’s things apart and sinks to his knees. With his long serpentine tongue Crowley licks over Aziraphale’s cock before wrapping said tongue around the warm flesh and makes Aziraphale lose every coherent thought. His tongue does unspeakable things to Aziraphale, until it wanders lower, over his balls and to his tight pucker. Aziraphale cries out when Crowley opens him with his tongue, until he is wet and ready and gasps for breath. Crowley licks his lips, when he stands up again. He bends Aziraphale nearly in half and looks at him with a predatory smile. He takes one hand from Aziraphale’s thigh and takes himself in hand, gives himself some slow strokes. 

“All mine. All this soft smooth flesh for me to enjoy…” he rasps.  
“Crowley…” moans Aziraphale and wiggles his bum. With a chuckle the demon steps closer and positions himself.  
“Oh, I will so enjoy this…” And then he sinks in - slowly, carefully, almost reverent. He sets a slow pace to begin with, gives them both time to adjust to the intense feeling. Aziraphale’s fingers dig deep into Crowley’s shoulders, he pulls him closer and kisses him with a passion that makes Crowley’s toes curl. 

The demon builds up to a quicker rhythm over the next minutes. All the golden jewelry moves and reflects the flickering light from the oil lamps and makes tiny jingling noises, barely audible over the panting and groaning of both angel and demon. Crowley’s hips move fast now, every thrust hits Aziraphale’s sweet spot. The angel is already very close to his climax.  
“Touch yourself, angel…” Crowley says, but Aziraphale just shakes his head.  
“No - kiss me, foul fiend! Just kiss me!”  
And Crowley does. 

It only takes a few more thrusts, before Aziraphale comes untouched. The spasms of his body and the feeling of his spend on his skin trigger Crowley’s own climax. He buries himself deep into Aziraphale’s welcoming body, his fingers leaving red marks where he still grips Aziraphale’s spread thighs. His hips twitch with the aftershocks, while Aziraphale’s hands caress his shoulders and back and touch the silky strands of his long red hair. 

The kisses that follow are much more gentle, loving and tender, while they both get their breath back and afterwards start to giggle happily. Until Crowley straightens and pulls Aziraphale with him. Aziraphale puts both arms around Crowley’s neck, when the demon effortlessly lifts him out of the chair and carries him to his spacious bedroom. He lays him down on his bed, gets in, too, and pulls Aziraphale close. The angel finds himself in Crowley’s strong arms. Like always in these moments Crowley murmurs sweet nothings that he will later deny to have said, but they both know it’s just to pretend. He is a demon, after all. His lips press gentle kisses to Aziraphale’s temple and forehead, while his hands roam over his skin to soothe and calm him.

When they are both cooled down and just revel in their closeness, Aziraphale sighs deeply and then says: “I missed you so much. America is so awfully far away.”  
“I know, dove. But I don’t think this assignment will last much longer. I have a feeling we’ll leave the new world soon.”  
“And I can’t wait. Everything here is so different. And you can’t get a decent meal anywhere.”  
“Wait, you didn’t like our turkey?” smiles Crowley and twists one of Aziraphale’s pale curls around his finger.  
“I didn’t say that, but I would very much like some cake and whipped cream.”  
“Sorry, I can’t provide you with that. But the Aztecs have a drink you have to try. They will serve it tonight at the feast. They call it chocolate. I admit it could be improved further, but it’s promising. I’m sure you’ll love it.”  
“Sounds lovely.”

They snuggle for a while longer before they are disturbed.  
Crowley groans, when someone knocks on his door, but doesn’t dare to enter.  
“Wot?” he asks loudly, but already knows why his servants are disturbing him.  
“You have to get ready, master.”  
“I’ll call you, get away!”  
“Yes, master.”  
Crowley turns back to Aziraphale.  
“Montezuma will be holding a feast for Cortés and your fellow conquistadors. I will see you there, will I?”  
Aziraphale sighs. “Of course. It would be rude not to attend.”  
“Alright. We won’t be able to talk to each other there. But I promise not to stay until the end. And afterwards…”  
Crowley runs a fingertip over Aziraphale’s body and stops short before his groin, “Afterwards I would very much like to feast on you. Maybe with a different effort, hm?”  
“Oh Crowley…” Aziraphale blushes, then asks: “Can’t we stay here? These conquistadors have atrocious manners.”  
“I can’t. I’m the high priest, I have to be there. And you should attend, too. Don’t raise curious questions.”

With a deep sigh Aziraphale retreats from Crowley’s embrace.  
“Would you please be so kind as to give me my clothes and armour back, wily serpent?”  
Crowley smiles at the endearment Aziraphale likes to use when addressing him while he snaps his fingers. He watches Aziraphale dress and helps him with the fastenings of his armour. Finally he leaves the bed and accompanies Aziraphale to the door of his house. He pulls Aziraphale into a last embrace. His armour is hard and unyielding against his chest, and he loathes it. His angel should feel soft, warm and pliant in his arms. But he will be again in just a few hours…  
“Shall I give you two of my guards to take you back to your quarters?” Crowley asks quietly, his fingertips caressing Aziraphale’s cheek.  
“No, I’m fine. I’m a soldier after all. I’ll see you at the feast, then.”  
“You can come over to my house whenever you feel like it. I’ll be expecting you.”  
Crowley’s eyes glow in the darkness as he smiles at him. Aziraphale’s blush is visible even in the darkness.  
“I can’t wait.”  
“That’s my dove. See you later, then.” Crowley bends forward and kisses Aziraphale with as much tenderness as he can muster, before he goes back into the house to get ready for the feast. The door closes behind him. Aziraphale stands there for another moment to compose himself. 

They shouldn’t do this, he knows that. Never should have started in the first place. But he loves Crowley, he can’t help it. And is love not the essence of his being? Shouldn’t he love every soul on the planet? That surely includes Crowley. Crowley once told him he fell for him the moment they talked for the first time. They had made love for the first time in a hidden alcove of the Ark and had never been able to stop afterwards. Being apart for many years and then seeing each other again always makes them fall into each others arms. They still have their arguments, sure. But the love between them is always there, strong and honest. And with this thought Aziraphale finally turns around to head back to his quarters. He will see Crowley again after the feast. He already longs to be in his arms again, feel the never-ending love Crowley has for him. Heaven and Hell will smite them both if they ever find out. But Aziraphale doesn’t care for now. He will have Crowley back in a few hours. That’s all that counts for now. So he straightens his shoulders and walks back to his quarters, a small happy smile on his face.


End file.
